


Angel of Arkham: The Angel Appears

by AshesInTheCloset



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Discussion of Abortion, Dom Jerome Valeska, F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Other, Soft Jerome Valeska, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Top Jerome Valeska, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22357606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesInTheCloset/pseuds/AshesInTheCloset
Summary: What happens when Arkham's newest staff member crosses paths with a certain Jerome Valeska?
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska/Original Female Character(s), Jerome Valeska/Original Female Character(s), Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

"So," Paris Beckett, one of Arkham's newest therapists and psychiatrists clicked her pen as she stared straight into Jerome Valeska's eyes, "Why did you do it?" she leaned back in her chair as the crazy eyed ginger, wiggling in his restraints, smirked. This wasn't the first time these two have met... 

6 months ago... 

Paris was watching the circus with her niece that calm Sunday evening, not much was going on that night, just the regular acrobats and clowns. That was until a fight ensued between the clowns and acrobats. "Oh dear," Paris muttered as her niece grimaced and looked away, "I don't think this is supposed to happen..." 

"GCPD!" A voice rang out through the circus tent, a cop, "Everybody freeze!" The string of events that happened next caught Paris off guard, she was hoping for a relaxing evening but instead she got a case placed on her hands. Sadly, her "people" skills wouldn't be needed until later. 

"C'mon kiddo," Paris picked up the child, "Let's get you back home before your dad scolds me for getting you involved in my work." as the two of them left the tent a young ginger, no older than Paris bumped into them- literally- and dropped his bag of cherry flavoured candies. "Oh," Paris muttered as she knelt down to pick it up, "I'm terribly sorry, sir, I wasn't looking where I was-" 

"No, no," the ginger man replied as he knelt down at the same time, "It was my fault-" their hands collided and their eyes locked onto each others. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, Paris felt the warmth of his fingers brush against hers as he blindly fumbled for the bag, until the scene before her finally began to process fully. 

"Oh shit!" she jerked her hand away suddenly, her niece yelping at the random movement, "I'm so so sorry... again... I didn't mean-" she stuttered as her face flushed red, rising to her feet as her niece glanced around curiously. The ginger smiled awkwardly, that smile brought butterflies to Paris's torso, it was then did the man's features jump out at her. He was kind of cute... 

"Again," he chuckled grabbing the bag and hopping to his feet as well, he was a few inches taller than Paris, "It was my fault, I wasn't watching where I was going." Paris was about to say more but the pressure of her niece gently banging her head against her shoulder stopped her. 

"I- uh," Paris muttered shyly, "Sorry again- crap!" 

"No worries, sweets," the ginger chuckled, "I'm Jerome, by the way." 

"Paris," she smiled with a slight bow, "Nice to meet you." Jerome smiled back at her before taking his leave, her eyes followed him until he faded into the darkness. A smile still on her face. 

"Aunt Paris," the small voice of her niece broke through her thoughts, "Can we go home now? I'm sleepy." Paris finally remembered why she was outside, she hummed in compliance and headed to her car. The trip to Paris's brother's house was 15 minutes, it was a quiet 15 minutes, time seemed to fly by without a moment's notice. 

The next thing Paris knew was that she was pulling into her brother's driveway, she shuffled out of the car with her niece in her arms, "Paris," her brother smiled as he opened the door, "Thanks for taking care of her." 

"It was no trouble at all, Jack," Paris replied softly, "We had fun." she placed the young girl in her brother's arms. She could see he wanted to say more but she quickly nodded a goodbye and rushed to her car. 

"Paris!" Jack called out before she could leave, "Take care of yourself, kid." Paris stared at him before flashing him a smile and driving off... 

The next day Paris was called to the scene, her job was to evaluate people's mental state after a crime as well as help out the detectives gather evidence. She pulled up to the circus parking with no knowledge of what happened after she left the previous night. When she got out of her car, a detective by the name of Gordon approached her, "Ms. Beckett?" he stopped her in her tracks. 

"Yes?" she replied flatly as she took a sip of her coffee. 

"I'm detective Gordon with the GCPD, you were here when the commotion started correct?" 

"Yes sir." Gordon looked much older than Paris, maybe around his late 20s to early 30s, "One of the circus members attacked a fellow circus member." the two of them began walking. 

"That," the detective said through gritted teeth, "And we happened to stumble across a dead body." Paris nearly tripped over her own feet. Turns out that the body they found was the mother of Jerome, Paris could feel her heart plummet to her stomach. She couldn't imagine the pain that sweet boy was going through. 

"So..." Gordon focused his gaze on the girl, "We want you to talk to him..." his tone was cold and blank. 

"That's my job, detective," Paris replied, "But something in your tone says that you don't think I can do my job." Gordon scoffed and bit his cheek. 

"How old are you again?" he cocked his head skeptically. 

"18," she replied with confidence, "Should that matter?" 

"Look, I have no problem with you- really- I just think you're a bit-" 

"-Too young to be a psychiatrist and therapist?" she smirked, "I assure you, sir, I scored the top of my class." and with that she walked off, leaving the detective dumbfounded, a smirk crawling across her face. 

Paris made her way to find Jerome, asking here and there about his whereabouts, he was sitting outside of his trailer hugging his knees with his face buried. The poor thing must've been crying all night. She approached him gently and quietly, "Jerome?" she chirped softly, causing him to jolt in his seat, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you-" she noticed that his eyes were red and puffy, probably from crying, she gazed at him warmly with a small smile. 

All the boy did was sniffle and look away in shame and grief, "What do you want?" he grumbled, aware of the girl taking a small step closer to him. 

"Mind if I sit by you...?" she tilted her head quizzically. Jerome just scowled in response, yet she still sat by him anyway. The boy didn't protest or argue, he just scooted over a bit to make room for the girl. 

"Why are you here?" Jerome finally spoke, "You don't look like a cop..." 

"That is true," Paris shrugged, "But I do evaluate people." 

"What? So you're like a shrink?" he scoffed. 

"I guess. But I'd also like to be your friend." 

"Did they tell you to say that?" 

"No," Paris chuckled, "I actually do want to be your friend." 

"What's in it for you?" Jerome muttered. 

"Another person to share jokes with and eat icecream with?" Paris noticed a change in Jerome's postrue, she smiled softly. The two of them sat in silence for a couple of minutes before Paris spoke again. "You doing okay? With all that happened?" Jerome sniffled and shrugged, rubbing his eyes against his sleeve. 

Paris shifted to give him a hug but he jerked as if he was expecting her to smack him in the face. Her eyes met with his, once he saw no malicious intentions he calmed down and allowed her to gently hug him. Jerome cried into her shoulder for what seemed like hours, Paris rubbed his back soothingly and rocked back and forth softly. When he finished crying Paris hopped to her feet and extended a hand out to him. 

"Walk with me?" she asked with a childlike wonder in her tone, Jerome couldn't refuse. The ginger took her hand in his and was quickly yanked to his feet and dragged away. The two of them weaved their way around the circus, Paris taking in the scene around her. 

"Were you two close?" she asked, Jerome tilted his head in confusion, "You and your mother?" Jerome hissed in disgust as she mentioned his mother, that hiss was enough to answer Paris's question. Jerome began to tell the girl about his relationship with his mother and how she would always beat him, he told her about how he would often find his mother in bed with another man, about how she would get drunk and hit him again and again for no reason at all. Paris jotting down notes as a therapist would. 

"'Jerome'," he mocked, "'Go take out the trash!' Or 'Jerome, it's always your fault!' followed by her banging a clown in the other room. I'm sorry, I'm rambling again." 

"It's quite alright," Paris reassured him, "As a friend, and a therapist, it's my job to listen." Jerome stopped and smiled at her, she was quite different than the others he had met. 

"My mother's love life never really bothered me at all," Jerome continued, "I mean, it's the reason I exist." 

"True." Paris shrugged in agreement. 

"I just hope that they find whoever did this..." 

"I do as well..." Paris's voice grew quiet, Jerome noticed that her gaze darkened so he quickly changed the subject. 

"I gotta go run some errands soon," he scratched his neck, "But I kinda wanna talk to you more." 

"Thank you." Paris beamed at this comment. 

"Mind if I get your number, sweets?" Paris didn't refuse, she quickly scribbled her number on a fresh page in her notebook before tearing it out and handing it to the ginger. Jerome said his thanks as he shoved the piece of paper into his jeans pocket, "When's a good time to call you?" he asked before he left. 

"Around 5:30-6ish," Paris hummed, "Weekends I'm free to talk all day." 

"You wanna go out to dinner with me tonight?" Jerome asked before she left. 

"Sure, surpirse me!" 

"I'll call you later tonight." 

And with that the two said their goodbyes and headed their separate ways... 

Back to present day, in Arkham... 

Paris waited patiently for an answer, Jerome's frenzied gaze burning a hole through her composure and confidence. The silence was suffocating. 

"Well?" she urged, "I'm waiting for your answer." Jerome only laughed, if it were during other circumstances Paris would've adored that laugh of his. But in that moment his laugh brought fear. 

"You remember the time I took you out for dinner," Jerome started, "Right, sweets?"


	2. Questions?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paris and Jerome go on a dinner date

6 months ago... 

Paris sat in her office after coming back from speaking with Jerome, she glanced at her notes and tried to assess the ginger's emotional state, pen tapping against her cheek as she spun around in her chair. Ten minutes until the work day was over for her, she checked her phone for any messages, wondering what Jerome had in mind for dinner, was it a date or not? 

It took her a minute to realize that her phone was ringing. In her hand. She jerked in sudden alarm, almost dropping the phone, and answered it, "Hello?" her voice as smooth as neatly ironed laundry, the chuckle on the other side of the call was familiar and easy to identify. 

"Heya, sweets," Jerome chimed, "It's Jerome." 

"I figured," Paris smiled warmly, "What's up?" "You still up for dinner tonight? I know a place that has good spaghetti." Paris confirmed that she was still wanting to go out to dinner with the ginger, she gave him the address of her workplace and he gave her an estimate on when he'd be there to pick her up. 

"See you in ten." Jerome chirped happily, "Bye." and with that he hung up. Paris sighed as she looked in the small mirror hanging from her wall, her makeup was faded and in need of a tune-up. She rummaged through her makeup bag and pulled out the cosmetics she needed: bold red lipstick, smooth black eyeliner, and a lavender eyeshadow. She straightened her jet black hair until it was neatly resting upon her shoulders. While she did this, the nagging feeling of uncertainty chilled her. Her text tone went off, a text from Jerome: 

"I'm outside." -Jerome. 

She glanced outside and saw the ginger leaning against his light blue chevy impala, she didn't want to keep him waiting but the uncertain feeling kept on bothering her. Before she left the office she snagged her switchblade out a desk drawer, concealing it in her purse, and made her way out, locking the door to her office behind her. Once she was out of the building the frigid winter air nipped at the skin of her cheeks, turning them a rosy pink, "You look gorgeous," the ginger beamed sweetly, "Almost like an angel. Except, you don't have wings." 

"Oh hush," Paris teasingly punched his shoulder, "Or I might change my mind." Jerome raised his hands in defeat, a soft chuckle leaving his chest, before he opened the passenger door for the girl.

"What a gentleman," Paris jested, "Thanks." Jerome nodded politely before closing the door and making his way to the driver's side. Paris buckled her seatbelt as Jerome placed the destination into the GPS, 'Moonlight Cuisine.' Once he made sure she was all settled in, Jerome buckled up and started the car, he flipped on the radio. 

"What kind of music do you like?" he asked as he flipped through the stations. 

"Rock mostly," Paris replied, "You got any Green Day albums?" 

"Hell yeah!" 

"The recent one? American Idiot?" to answer her question, Jerome fished out the CD and plopped it into the CD player. "Hell yeah!" the two of them began humming along to the angry guitar as well as Billie Joe Armstrong's lyrics. 

When they reached the restaurant and Jerome stopped the car, Paris started to be less cautious around the boy. Jerome seemed friendly enough, granted she still kept her guard up, he opened the door for her and she smiled. The two of them headed inside, "I got us reservations," Jerome noted proudly, "Right after you said 'yes' to dinner." Paris was touched by this action, yet it also worried her. 

With an awkward and nervous smile, she faced him with as much courage as she could stir up, "That's sweet of you, really," she spoke with a nod as the ginger opened the door to the restaurant for her, "But what if I called to say that I couldn't make it?" Jerome's sweet and charming demeanor quickly turned into one of hostility and as sharp as the winter. 

"Oh," he smirked darkly as the two of them walked inside, "You'd still go with me either way..." this was not the sweet young man Paris had met earlier that day... 

"Since," Jerome quickly went back to that sweet and charming boy, "I'd bring dinner to you, of course!" Paris sighed with relief internally, smiling shyly at the sweet yet unnerving tone of Jerome's voice. The girl was about to speak only to be cut off by the waiter. 

"How may I help you two, this evening?" the waiter smiled.

"Uh, we have a reservation," Jerome stated as he placed himself between Paris and the waiter, "Under the name 'Valeska'. A table for two." The waiter checked the list to make sure, once he saw that it matched up with what the ginger said he lead the couple to their table- more like a booth. Secluded in a corner, out of people's peripheral vision, just great... 

Once they were seated the waiter handed them their menus before shuffling off, leaving the two of them alone. Paris fidgeted with her thumbs as she looked over the menu- the ravioli looked good- she could feel Jerome's cold gaze resting on her, never faltering. 

"What are you thinking of getting, sweets?" Jerome said with a warm smile, "I'll get you whatever you want, anything." She could feel her cheeks warm up as a blush slowly creeped up her face. 

"I-I guess I'll have the cheese ravioli..." she glanced down at her lap to avoid eye contact. 

"That all?" Jerome raised an eyebrow. 

"A-and a root beer..." Jerome smiled and called the waiter over and placed in their order, the ginger got the same thing as Paris did. 

After the two of them ate their dinner, they drove around a bit. Jerome wanted to drop Paris off at her place but the girl protested against it, she claimed that she wanted to go on an adventure to take evening photos of the city. Paris explained to Jerome that her hobby was photography, her mother was a journalist and her father was a medic in the 101st Airborne division of the army, she mentioned how her brother was a rifleman in that same division. 

"I guess I got my love for photography from my mother," she shrugged as the two of them strolled together in a park, "I wanted to be a journalist." 

"You're a shrink though." Jerome chirped. 

"Yeah... I gave up the journalism dream because I also wanted to help people and solve crimes, so I decided to go into criminal psychology."

"I see," the ginger pursed his lips in thought, "From what I can tell that- going off what you've told me and from knowing you- you seem to have a heart of gold..." Paris smiled sweetly. The two of them came across a playground, Paris quickly made her way over to the swings and plopped down in one of the seats before happily kicking her legs like a child would. One moment the swing was as still as it could be, the next it was gently swaying back and forth. She glanced behind her to find Jerome gently pushing her, Paris's face lit up with a sense of childlike joy. 

"Your face is so adorable," Jerome chuckled, "I don't think I'll get tired of seeing that reaction." he smiled. 

"Are you gonna just stand there," Paris teased, "Or are you gonna join me on the swings?" Jerome grinned and sat in the swing to the left of her, pushing his feet against the woodchips and following that same back and forth motion. 

Paris giggled and leapt off of her swing as it swayed up, she landed with unbalance on her feet, flailing her arms for stability and looking back at Jerome with a childish grin. "Race ya to the slide!" she exclaimed before making a mad dash to the play structure. Jerome smirked, swearing that he'd get there before her and mentioning that she got a head start, before following close behind her. 

"Last one to the slide has to answer any question the winner asks!" Jerome laughed before picking up the pace, "Sorry shorty!" 

"Hey!" Paris huffed, "I'm not that short!" 

It was no surprise that Jerome won, him being taller- by two (2) feet- meant that he would have longer strides than the tiny Paris. He sat at the top of the slide and waited for a few seconds for Paris to catch get to him, the girl panted and huffed before sitting cross legged next to him. 

"Guess I'm the loser," she shrugged, "Ask your question." she folded her arms across her chest and dangled her legs off the edge of the platform they both were sitting on. Jerome gazed at her with curiosity and triumph as he pondered about his question. 

"Did you enjoy this date?" he rested his chin on his palm, eager for her response like a puppy waiting for a head pat. Paris sighed and shook her head with a smile. 

"I guess," she shrugged, "I mean, all of the dates I've ever been on either ended badly or was some sick prank. I'm the kind of person people aren't attracted to." she chuckled dryly. Paris wasn't pretty, nor ugly for that matter, she was just average. She wasn't sporty or athletic, she was smart but not in the sense of academics, she was nobody's first choice. Jerome didn't understand why she was unpopular, she was amazing, she wasn't a blank slate like the other girls. She had confidence- somewhat...

"Would you go on another date with me?" he asked. 

"Hey," Paris snapped, "You only get ONE question!" she giggled as she slid down the slide. Jerome soon followed, the two of them were now standing face to face on the woodchips. Paris could make out Jerome's bold orange hair under the moonlight, she was amazed at the fact that his pale skin caused him to sparkle under the light of the full moon. 

"It's getting late," the girl gazed up at the sky then back at the ginger, "I should probably get home..." 

"Yeah," Jerome added as he slid his hands into the pocket of his jeans, "What's your address? I'll take ya home." 

"That's really sweet of you, but I gotta get my car..." She clutched her purse closer to her, "Could you drop me off at the GCPD? My office is close by there." Jerome pouted but didn't protest, he beckoned for her to follow him back to the car so they could venture to the GCPD. As they walked to the car, Paris started shivering and Jerome could notice. He sighed and started sliding off his jacket. 

"Here," he placed it over the girl's shoulders, "You'll catch a cold and die. Then they'll blame me for your death. They always blame me for everything." Paris felt her heart sink and without thinking she slid her hand in his. 

Back in present day Arkham... 

"Remember, toots?" Jerome's cold smirk sent chills down her spine, "You liked me, in fact, you still do." 

"Just," Paris clamped her eyes shut and she gripped her pen tightly, "Just shut up. Stop it!" 

"You don't want to admit to the fact that you're in love with a maniac."


	3. The Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is revealed, Paris regrets everything...

Paris had had enough of Jerome's behavior, she mustered up as much self control she could to prevent herself from smacking him right then and there, no matter how much she denied it... the boy was right...

"I don't think you're all that bad," she kept her voice steady and her tone calm, "I think there's still some good in you left..." 

6 months ago... 

Jerome parked the car right outside the police station, he sighed and took one last glance at Paris before she left. His gaze was pleading and desperate, as if he wasn't ever going to see her again and he was trying to burn the image of her iun his head."Well," the girl broke the silence, "I guess this is goodbye." 

"Yeah," Jerome blinked, "Yeah. Um, let me walk you out." he hopped out of the car and opened the door for Paris, she said her thanks and they stood besides the car. 

"If you wanna chat," the girl smiled, "You know my number." Jerome nodded as she turned on her heels, now was his chance. 

"Doll, wait!" he called out to her, she turned around with a look of curiosity on her face, "Did you at least enjoy the date?" Paris tilted her head in contemplation, of course she did, Jerome was such a sweet boy. 

"I did," she took a step towards him, "I had fun tonight," her toes met his, "Thank you." she placed a hand on his cheek and she raised herself on her toes to kiss his other cheek, Jerome felt his face instantly flush pink and warm up despite the current chilled winter air. When she moved her face away, she gave him a warm smile, Jerome placed a hand on hers and squeezed gently. 

"Good night." Paris whispered before walking off. Jerome watched her enter the building, making sure she got to her destination safely before he hopped back into his chevy and drove away. 

Paris made her way over to the detective on the circus murder case involving Jerome's mother. Lila Valeska was found covered under a dirty sheet in a wagon, apparently Jerome was there when they discovered her body.

"All of you can go home free," Detective Gordon shouted sternly, "No one leaves town until this investigation is over! And for God's sake, end this long feud between your families! Look at where it got your buddies!" Paris shyly shuffled over to him, she weaved her way through the crowd of clowns and dancers. 

"I like when you act all tough," a woman was caressing the detective's chest, "It's kinda cute." Gordon chuckled softly, the two of them hardly noticed that Paris was around. 

"U-um, detective Gordon?" Gordon and the woman both jumped when Paris spoke, "Hi. Um, here's the evaluation of my client. Jerome Valeska." she handed him a folder of documents that she fished from her purse. The detective took it from her and said his thanks although it was clouded with some skepticism. 

"Thank you," he mumbled as he handed the folder to the lady by his side, "I'll have Dr. Thompkins look it over-" 

"You don't trust my skills," Paris grumbled, "Do you?" 

"No!" Gordon shot her a look of shock, "I just need... Another doctor's approval..." 

"Just because I'm still very young, doesn't make me terrible at my job. I can tell you're lying, and I hate it." Dr. Thompkins smirked at the girl's response, she had quickly taken a liking to this young criminal psychologist. 

"You're definitely smarter than you let on," Thompkins took a step forward with an extended hand, "Dr. Leslie Thompkins, you can call me Lee." Paris shyly took Ms. Thompkins's hand and shook it gently with a smile. 

"Paris Beckett." 

"Lee..." Gordon hissed through gritted teeth, "We should probably let this kid get back to her parents..." he probably thought that Paris couldn't hear him, boy was he wrong.

"I... don't... have parents...?" the girl responded with an eyebrow raised in puzzlement, the other two's eyes widened in shock, "What? Not like I'm an orphan, both my parents are dead." she shrugged before saying her goodbyes, it was a curt and quick goodbye. Paris spun on her heels and began to walk off, almost bumping into a blind elderly gentleman. 

"I'm terribly sorry," she frantically apologized, "I didn't mean to-" the gentleman chuckled and reassured her that everything was alright. 

"O-okay..." Paris mumbled before shuffling away, overhearing Dr. Thompkins and Detective Gordon talking about Lila Valeska with the gentleman. Paris didn't hear much else as the door closed behind her, she hopped into her car and drove off. After 10 minutes being on the road she realized that she still had Jerome's jacket. 

"Oh, crap!" she facepalmed, "Ugh, I guess I'll just give it back to him next time I see him..." and with that she continued driving on... 

Present day Arkham... 

Jerome smirked wildly, his green eyes flaring with excitement and entertainment when Paris spoke these words. Him, being good? Now that was a joke worth a standing ovation. 

"Me?" Jerome laughed, "Doll face, you should probably get your head checked, I got no good in me!" Paris sucked in a breath and fiddled with her pen. Despite these facts, she still believed that there was some good in this young man. Even though he was in Arkham, even though he was in those restraints, even though he killed his own mother... 

6 months ago... 

Paris was still in shock as she still tried to comprehend the recent events, she was called into the GCPD the next evening to listen to interrogations, she couldn't believe her eyes when they brought Jerome Valeska in. The finger's hands cuffed behind him as they lead him to an interrogation room. 

As he passed by, the two of them made eye contact for a brief moment, he flashed her a smirk just before he was placed into solitary confinement. Paris's heart stopped, there must have been a mistake of some sorts. Jerome couldn't possibly be a suspect in his own mother's murder, could he?

"Miss Beckett?" a voice called from behind her, she spun on her heels and turned to face detective Gordon, "May I speak with you real quick?" 

"Y-yeah," the girl blinked as she tried to wrap her head around the events, "Sure, what's up?" as the two of them began walking, Gordon began to explain what had just happened. The blind man, Paul Cicero, was a fortune teller. Cicero had a message from Lila Valeska in the grave, he mentioned something about "the servant of the devil lies in the garden of the Iron Sisters" and how Gordon and Lee found an axe underneath the Arkham Bridge. Engraved in the axe were symbols, which Gordon recognized as a satanic cult's symbols, The Hellfire Club. 

"The thing is," Gordon showed Paris a photo of the axe he had found, "The Hellfire Club disappeared over a decade ago." 

"Why would a ghost talk about a cult that disappeared years ago?" Paris cocked an eyebrow which only gained a look of disappointment from Gordon, "What? Did I get something mixed up?" 

"No," the man grumbled, "I just didn't take you as someone who believes in the supernatural..." 

"Wow, okay killjoy." The two of them entered an interrogation room where Dr. Thompkins was waiting. Paris smiled and made her way to the very back corner of the room, Gordon called in Paul Cicero. 

"Gordon, Thompkins," the elderly man greeted. Paris was amazed that, despite being blind, he knew who was in the room! "I notice that the same young girl I bumped into yesterday is also here, who might you be young lady?" he turned his head in the direction where Paris was hiding in the corner. She was shocked, how could he...? 

"P-Paris," she uttered softly, "Paris Beckett." 

"Louder, dear. I'm old and deaf-" 

"Paris Beckett." Gordon hissed as he sat down across from the blind man. Paris found this quite rude, but that wasn't the important thing. The detective discussed the message with Cicero, explaining the circumstances with The Hellfire Club. 

"I have reason to believe," Gordon straightened his tie, "That the message and ax were to throw us off from the real culprit." Paris furrowed her brows and tried to piece everything together. 

"You're protecting someone, aren't you?" the old man laughed at the detective's question, "Who is it?" 

"Even if I was protecting Lila's real killer, why would I give him up?" Cicero smirked. 

"It's someone close to you, isn't it?" the fortune teller fell silent, Paris was not prepared for what happened next. Gordon had Jerome brought in to the room, Cicero didn't move an inch even when Jerome walked through the door. 

Jerome noticed Paris in the corner, he flashed her a sly smirk before sitting down besides Cicero. 

"Mr. Cicero," Jerome acknowledged the old man's presence, "Detectives... Paris..." the way her name dripped from his lips sent shivers up her spine, made her feel sick. 

"Do you know why you're here, Jerome?" Gordon asked. 

"Did you find who killed my mother?" Jerome muttered sheepishly. 

"You killed your own mother, Jerome." the room fell silent, Jerome's mouth dropped, Paris's eyes widened at this accusation. Jerome couldn't possibly have killed his mother, he was too pained by her death to even think of doing such a thing! The detective began to explain how Mr. Cicero instructed that Jerome chuck the axe off Arkham Bridge and how he helped Jerome clean up after the boy killed his own mother. 

"Sir, that's absurd! And rude!" Jerome said as if he had his feelings hurt. Jerome's eyes darted around the room, his green eyes finding Paris's, begging for forgiveness and help. His gaze brought pain to her heart. 

"But it's true." Gordon remained calm, "I just don't know why this man would do all of this to protect you..." Paris watched as the ginger frantically turned to the blind gentleman, she wanted to believe that Jerome was innocent. 

"Paul Cicero is your biological father." Gordon mentioned. Jerome looked at the blind man in shock, then back at the detective. 

"M-my father was a sea captain..." Jerome stated blankly. 

"Am I wrong, Mr. Cicero?" Gordon asked the blind man. 

"Yes." was his only reply. 

"My father's name was Sven Carlson, he died at sea-" Jerome uttered. 

"What was his ship's name?" Gordon butted in. Jerome fell silent, he stated that his father was on many ships. "The one he died on." 

"Mother... never said..." Gordon suggested a blood test, which wouldn't be much time. That's when the old man broke. 

"I'm sorry, Jerome," Cicero's voice faltered, Jerome furrowed his brows in confusion, "The detective is right. I am indeed your father." 

Jerome couldn't believe what he was hearing, Paul Cicero couldn't be his father, surely this blind man couldn't possibly be the sea captain the boy heard stories of. 

"Why would you say that?" Jerome muttered, voice shaking. Cicero began to confessed, it wasn't that hard to put the pieces together and Jerome could've possibly suspected the truth. 

"My mother would never-" Jerome started but was cut off. 

"She was a cruel woman," Cicero hissed, "Often unkind to me, but she did love me... once... In her sick ways." Jerome glanced at Paris who was still hovering in the corner, tears welling in his eyes. 

Jerome's mother loved him very much, according to Cicero, "That's why she gave you a better father..." Cicero placed a hand on Jerome's. 

The room fell silent, the only thing that could be heard was the soft whimpering and sniffling coming from Jerome's throat. Tears streamed down the boy's pale face, he looked down in what appeared to be a mixture of pained shock and shame... Paris was just about ready to smack Gordon in the face when Jerome's desolate whimpers morphed into soft chuckles, followed by a morbid grin, the chuckles turned into maniacally crazed laughter. 

Everyone in the room, other than Cicero and Gordon, were shocked at the change of behavior Jerome had exhibited. Paris couldn't believe that the person in front of her was the gentle and timid boy she ate dinner with the previous night. His laughing ceased. Jerome looked up to face Cicero, the boy's twisted grin still plastered on his face. "My mother," he said as a chuckle bubbled in his chest, "Was a cold hearted whore who never loved anyone..." 

Gordon glanced back at Lee, then to Paris who stood there in silence as Jerome's grin formed into a cold and sick scowl. 

"She would never touch a pathetic old creep like you." 

"All these years," Cicero managed to keep his voice steady, "Did think I was so kind to you because I'm a good person?" Paris could feel bile rising up to her throat, how could she have not seen the signs that Jerome was so unstable? How could she have been blind? 

"If I wasn't your father," Cicero continued, "I would never have helped you after what you did." Jerome quickly directed his gaze to detective Gordon, quickly flashing a small smirk in Paris's direction. 

"Paul Cicero," Jerome muttered, "My father. Who would've known?" Paris noticed Dr. Thompkins growing uneasy, Jerome glanced around with disappointment. "Oh it was very funny!" he began to chuckle again, hitting an invisible drum as he uttered a dark 'bah-dum-sh!' 

Gordon tensed up at the gesture, was this really Jerome Valeska? 

"The bitch got me with a zinger in the end," Paris bit her tongue, why would he do this? 

"Why did you kill her, Jerome?" Gordon pressed. Jerome tilted his head to ponder about it, that's when it hit her... He had confessed to her in broad daylight and she didn't even notice... 

"You know how mothers are, she just kept on pushing..." Jerome locked eyes with Paris, he could see the realization of her mistakes form on her face. It thrilled him, "I'm like: okay mom, be a whore. Be a drunken whore even... But don't be a nagging, drunken whore... Y'know?" he smiled. 

Paris clinged to Thompkins wrist, the poor girl was shaking, tears streaming down her face as Jerome continued. 

"Don't yell at me to do the dishes if you've been banging a clown in the next fucking room!" Jerome suddenly slammed his fist on the table, Paris jumped at the sudden loud 'bang!' Silence followed shortly but was quickly violated by Jerome's maniacal laughter. Thompkins held Paris tightly, Jerome continued laughing as if these current events were some joke. Some sick, twisted, joke. 

"Jerome Valeska," Gordon stated as a policeman placed handcuffs on the ginger, "You're under arrest for the murder of Lila Valeska. You have the right to remain silent..." Jerome smiled through the whole Miranda Rights, his eyes trailing to Paris's shivering form. His smile felt like ice on her skin. 

"I'm sorry, sweets," he pouted, "Looks like we'll have to cancel our next date. Too bad though, I do like you." The girl's face contorted into one painted with fear and repulsion, he burst into laughter again, as they took him out of the room his eyes never left her...


End file.
